A Full Circle Sort Of Deal
by 22 Umbrellas
Summary: Past, present, and future: Five times Rayna wears a belt that says "I love you" (and five times Deacon is there to see it).
1. 01

A/N: I really love the "I love you" belt that Rayna sometimes wears in D/R scenes throughout the series, but since it's never been addressed within the world of the show, I've always hoped someone would write a fanfic about it. To date I've never been able to find one (sorry if I somehow missed anyone's), so I've finally been forced to take matters into my own hands. ;)

(If by some chance you have no idea what I'm going on about right now, just google "nashville susie de santo i love you belt." There are also some decent shots of it in the episode stills for 3x21 and 3x22.)

I started writing this thing back when the show was still cancelled, mainly as an effort to give closure to the characters. I thought about putting the whole thing off till later when CMT picked up the show for another season (yay!) but I decided to finish it now anyway. It was meant to be a one-shot and it's already about 90% done, but it got a bit longer than I intended, so I'm just going to split the sections up.

* * *

 **01**

She finds it at a thrift shop, of all places.

It's been years since Rayna's given herself the freedom to browse shops around town without purpose, to pick out clothes for herself and no one else: not the girls, not Teddy, not caring one bit what her stylist thinks. It's been even longer since she felt the need to be thrifty. But she still surprises herself sometimes.

The belt is casual and understated, not at all flashy like the vast majority of her usual stage attire. There isn't a rhinestone in sight. Instead, it's a wide band of dark leather—the words I LOVE YOU etched in teal lettering across the center, bookended by two five-point stars. Another trail of gold stars decorates both the head and tail. Maybe subconsciously she's even thinking of him when she decides to buy it. Maybe. Maybe not. She's married and she loves her husband and Teddy's been nothing but good to her, so she'd like to think she's not that reckless.

She takes the belt home with her that day, but it's easily forgotten as the months drag by. Rayna already owns a full collection of belts for every occasion, and it's not unusual for them to occasionally get lost and forgotten in the back of her cavernous closet. But she finds the image of this one returns to her when she least expects it, gnawing at the back of her mind as if trying to tell her something important. She isn't sure what causes her to pull it out half a year later and finally try it on for the first time, but it's a snug fit, the prong sliding neatly into the third hole.

She's still wearing it when she leaves the house that morning.

. …. …

They're wrapping up a long recording session when Tandy drops by for a visit, trailing a step or two behind the girls. Maddie is, as usual, overjoyed to see Deacon. All that little girl has to do is launch herself straight at him, call him her Uncle Deacon, and Rayna's heart is in her throat. It's bad enough that she starts seeing new parts of him in their daughter every day: little things, like the way the corners of Maddie's eyes crinkle when she laughs; the way she cradles the ¾-sized guitar Rayna got for her 7th birthday; even the way she sometimes looks at Rayna in wonder awe, as if she's the only other person in the world who matters. Whenever Rayna actually sees the two of them together in the same room, this lie starts feeling like a lead weight that could crush them all.

But Rayna finally looks away only to see Tandy watching with her eyebrows raised.

"Will you quit it?" Rayna knows she sounds exasperated, though she wishes she didn't: "I know what you're thinking, _because it's what you're always thinking_ , but he's my bandleader and my friend. Nothin' more, nothin' less. That line has been _clearly_ drawn." It's been nearly eight years and she hasn't told a soul. And yet Tandy still thinks she's on the verge of spilling the beans to Deacon every time they see each other. Still!

"You and I both know that when it comes to him, no line is ever clearly drawn. _"_

Rayna sighs, louder than she probably needs to, but she can't honestly blame Tandy for feeling skeptical or overprotective. "Look, I promised I wasn't ever gonna say anything, and so… I'm not ever gonna say anything. That was the deal, and I intend to keep it. End of story."

Truth is, there was a time when she wasn't so sure she could keep her promise after all. That first year was the hardest. She cried herself to sleep nearly every night—as discreetly as possible so Teddy wouldn't notice, but she's fairly sure he still did, even if he was kind enough not to mention it in the morning. Half the time she didn't even know how she could possibly still be so emotional, but the tears wouldn't stop falling until the skin around her eyes was red and raw. When Maddie was three or four, when Rayna allowed herself a glimmer of hope that Deacon was truly serious this time about collecting his five-year sobriety chip, she nearly slipped up more than once. She had entire back-and-forth arguments about it inside her head, the two halves of her brain at war with one another: "Rayna, you know this whole situation is insane. You brought him back into your life. _You_ did that. He has the right to at least know what you've been hiding from him in plain sight. / Hey, remember that you're a mama now. Maddie has to come first. The guy who doesn't even remember _proposing_ to you that day, much less conceiving her? You don't owe him a goddamn thing. / Oh, so you wanna live in denial? Fine. Talk to me again when you're not still holding on to his ring like a life preserver—"

Rayna had always managed to stop herself before the truth could come floating out. Just like she'd always managed to stop herself before she could even think back to the silver band he'd slipped on her finger at the cabin that afternoon, to all those old letters and apologies stuffed inside a trunk in her music room—the only place she knew Teddy would never look.

Now it was too late. Once more, she glances over at the sound booth, where Deacon looks to be giving Maddie an impromptu guitar lesson as Daphne watches on. They would never forgive her for keeping this secret for so long. Neither of them would. The narrow window for coming clean, if there ever was one, is long gone.

"Remind me again why you invited him back into your band?" Tandy's voice cuts into Rayna's thoughts yet again, and she doesn't know how they could possibly still be on this topic. "As I recall, everybody in town was lining up to be your next lead guitar. You could've had your pick."

"Tandy?" Rayna plasters on the widest smile she can muster under the circumstances. "Have I already said thank you for spending the afternoon with the girls, and for bringing them out here? 'Cause if I haven't, then _thank you_ , you know how much I appreciate you doin' that, but I am not going to have this conversation with you _again_ today. Okay?"

"Hey, whatever you say, honey," Tandy says, holding her hands up in surrender. "I still think you're playing with fire."

(Deacon lags a few paces behind as they leave the studio that day. His gaze wanders as idle thoughts swim around in his mind, until a brilliant flash of blue finally catches his eye. There's a sudden, dull ache somewhere inside his chest when he first notices the I LOVE YOU that's hugging her hips, riding just above the pockets of her jeans. He remembers the days when she used to say those very words to him every day. Not in the platonic way she's taken to using the word "love" in recent years, insisting repeatedly that he's family, squeezing his arm and leaving her hand resting there for a beat too long—but in the sexy and heartfelt and breathless way she'd always said it back in the days when he was still lucky enough to have her in his bed. Eight years ago, when he left rehab for what he promised himself would be the final time only to find her hitched to Teddy Conrad, a baby on the way, he was naive enough to think those memories would eventually evaporate with time. Truth is, they still haven't. Truth is, he doesn't believe anymore that they ever will.

But he doesn't let himself to brood about that anymore.

Now Rayna drifts even further away from him with her girls in tow. Maddie and Daphne both turn to wave goodbye to him before they get in the car. Rayna looks back at him and smiles too, but she doesn't wave. A hint of sadness in her eyes, he thinks, but quickly brushes the phantom thought away as she heads for home.

The years tick by: eight, nine, ten, eleven… He starts measuring time by the number of birthdays since his last drink, the number of times he sits at home watching Old Yeller without her, the stream of other girls entering and exiting his bed becoming nothing more than a blur. As far as Deacon can tell, Rayna never wears that particular belt again, at least not when he's around. He's reminded of it once or twice, the image of those words flashing through his brain at the most unexpected moments, and wonders briefly where the belt has disappeared off to. Eventually, he forgets all about that one afternoon in the Soundcheck parking lot.

And if he ever tells her any of this? It won't happen until much, much later.)


	2. 02

_A/N: Sections 02 and 03 (coming soon) will overlap with the time period of the show. The majority of the dialogue in these sections has been ripped directly from those episodes, so credit goes to the writers of those teleplays. Callie Khouri, mostly._

 _Thanks for reading and reviewing. :)_

* * *

 **02**

Rayna stares into the depths of her closet, silently fuming as she steps inside.

She still can't believe Edgehill hired a new label head who seriously expect her to _open_ for Juliette Barnes. Juliette Barnes, whose fans are all squealing preteen girls that wouldn't know Loretta Lynn from Dolly Parton. Juliette Barnes, whose so-called "music" sounds, basically, like feral cats. Yet somehow she's the one who's selling out stadiums across the country. She's the one who inexplicably has everyone in the industry tucked into the back pocket of her skintight sparkly pants.

It feels like a nightmare.

Rayna fingers the garment bags hanging on the innermost rack, as if the answer to her dilemma might be hiding inside one, only a zip away. It isn't until she sweeps them all aside that she spots the wall of forgotten belts hanging at the very back. One in particular catches her eye: It hasn't been worn in…oh, she can't even remember how long. Not a conscious decision or anything. Somewhere along the line, Rayna guesses, she just let it slip her mind yet again. But now the leather strap threads smoothly through the loops of her newer jeans, curving around her hips as if it's most at home around her body. She looks back over her shoulder at it in the full-length mirror. I LOVE YOU, it says, but in reverse. That's fitting, because she sure as hell wishes she could turn back time right now.

Teddy's running out the door to drop the girls off at school on his way to a business meeting just as she's grabbing a quick breakfast in the kitchen.

"I love you, too," he says as he gives her peck on the lips and rushes past.

She must look confused by that last part when he turns back to glance at her because he points to her waist and flashes a grin.

"Nice belt. Should I be jealous you're telling everyone within a ten-foot radius that you love 'em?"

She's a little surprised the joke comes so easy, considering.

. …. …

The pressure to make a decision about the tour weighs heavy on her mind all day. Rayna loses it, a little bit, in front of everyone at rehearsal. To make matters worse, Bucky won't quit reminding her repeatedly of their meeting with Marshall Evans on Monday morning, how they'll be needing a definitive answer about her plans, and the whole situation is just so infuriating that the only thing she needs right now is a breather with the one person who she knows'll understand how she feels.

"Hey Deacon, you got a minute?"

He looks over immediately at the sound of her voice. "For you, I do."

Rayna throws Bucky a pointed look before grabbing her jacket and stalking off. "Meeting's done." She knows she isn't exactly being mature about this. Right now, she really doesn't care.

They end up walking along the pedestrian bridge that traverses the Cumberland River. Maybe it's only the fresh air in her lungs, but she feels so much better now that everything she's been thinking's out in the open. She's a little peeved when Deacon reveals that Juliette is apparently trying to steal him away from her too, but suddenly it all seems so petty and trivial. Their place in this business wasn't ever going to stay the way it used to be forever. Maybe she and Deacon are just going to have to get used to that.

"Sometimes I wish I could do it all over again," Rayna says wistfully, looking out over the city.

"What would you change?"

"Nothin'," she tells him, and it's true. She can't imagine altering the past because all of those little experiences, even the ones that paved way to ill-advised decisions and repeated heartbreak, have collectively shaped who she is today. There would be no Rayna Jaymes without any of it. And yet—

She risks looking Deacon square in the eye right then, even when she knows she probably shouldn't. "Everythin'."

"That makes two of us." The way he says it makes it sound more like a simple statement of fact, less like an admission of guilt.

She can only nod in response before looking away.

Regret. It's nothing new. They've both been down this road before. Sometimes it's even led to some of the best songs. Rarely has it led to some of the best choices.

In the end, they stand up there on that bridge for what feels like a lifetime as shared memories of their past flicker before them, both just watching as the sun dips down against the Nashville cityscape.

Rayna tries not to think about the wild old days; or the love they made; or the dream home that they'd once vowed, young and so naive, to fill with never-ending music morning, day, and night. She tries not to think about how she'd give anything to feel his hands buried in her hair again, his forehead against hers, the tips of their noses brushing against one another. And she tries really hard not to think about how maybe if she'd been honest with herself from the beginning things might be different right now.

Her arrangement with Teddy hadn't ever felt entirely permanent, even as she had promised him both _forever_ and _never_ in the same shaky breath. The first few years, in the darkness of their shared bedroom, she turned the word _someday_ around and around in her head whenever sleep eluded her. _Someday….. someday…. someday..._ It seemed to her when the time was right—and Rayna had convinced herself she would magically know when that time arrived—she and Maddie would find a way to meet _someday_ somewhere in the middle. _Someday… someday.. someday._ In the meantime, Rayna rocked her baby daughter in her arms, clothed and fed her, rose in the middle of the night to sing her back to sleep, held her hand tight whenever she was scared, and watched her toddler from the window after dropping her off on the first day of preschool, marveling that her little girl had already grown so big. By then, she and Deacon were making music together again, each performance still as exhilarating as ever. By then, she was pregnant again, the identity of the father no longer a question. By then, Maddie adored Deacon like family—but she thought her daddy Teddy hung the moon. _Someday. someday.. someday… someday…. Someday….._ It was then that Rayna finally understood, with a sinking heart, that _someday_ was never going to come.

So yeah, she tries really hard not to think about any of that as they're both standing there on that bridge. She really, truly does.

(The sun disappears behind the Nashville skyline and they both watch without a word. It paints the sky all sorts of colors as it goes, and all Deacon can do is think about how vast the universe is. How around the globe right now, millions and millions of people are going about their daily lives: Some are just waking up. Others are already going to bed. Some are brokenhearted. Others are seeing their dreams finally come true.

As a kid, Deacon hadn't paid too close attention in school, didn't much look at what all the textbooks had to say about science or geography or history. But knowing there was a whole world waiting for him outside of that shithole town in Mississippi—that was what kept him living and breathing most days. All he'd ever had was music. And playing guitar? Well, that was just about the only thing he'd ever been good at. He must've been no more than twelve when Beverly started talking about Nashville like it would be what saved them. He didn't take her seriously at first. It felt like a foolish dream after all they'd been through. But later on when they'd finally reached their destination, even started scoring regular gigs at a few dive bars and honky-tonks around town, wanderlust still consumed him. Deep down he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that whatever he'd been hoping for, this wasn't it—music was meant to lead him someplace else.

He didn't realize it till afterwards, but the night he first laid eyes and ears on Rayna singing at the Bluebird, all those doubts faded away. He stopped thinking there might be something better out there because all of a sudden the very best thing was right there in front of him.

Twenty-some-odd years later, despite everything, she's still right here in front of him—standing so close that he can smell her shampoo every time a gust of wind blows in just the right direction. Over the past decade, they've slowly reacquainted themselves with the comfort of silence, thoughts passing in between them unsaid. If Deacon had his way, this moment would stretch on forever. But she desperately needs a drink at Tootsie's, and he needs to scoot on down to his regular AA meeting before they both say or do something else they might regret.

But just as they're about to depart for their separate destinations, he notices something that stops him in his tracks: those familiar words, I LOVE YOU, peeking out from below her jacket hem. He knows instantly he's seen that belt before, though right now he can't quite remember where and when.

His first inclination is to call out after her in jest: _You tryna tell me somethin', Ray?_

He doesn't say it though. Oh, he knows she'd turn around and they'd laugh about it. Because that's the rapport they've settled into. They've carved out a space now where they can joke about it as if it were a distant memory—their complicated, lingering history. But where does he draw the line? Because lately he's not so sure he can keep pretending, for the rest of their lives, that all this is fine.

So he lets her go, neither of them saying more than their usual goodbyes, and he watches as those three words grow smaller and smaller until finally he can't read them at all.

If only he'd known then that in a week or two it would all be shot to hell anyway.)


	3. 03

**03**

She imagines that night in her head a dozen times before it actually arrives: It's the tenth anniversary of her Opry induction; a celebration of her long, illustrious career; her life. And her two girls are gonna be singing alongside her on that stage for the very first time. The best part is it's all happening as she's finally feeling like herself again.

She just can't imagine having a night like that without him being there.

"So is Deacon coming?" That seems to be all anyone wants to know.

 _I don't know_ , she says _. I don't think so_ , until she's tired of being too afraid to ask.

When Rayna first calls him, she can tell immediately that he's hesitating. They've been through so much, together and apart. She knows he must be thinking the same thing she is: It has to be right this time, or else it'll never be. But maybe if she mentions Maddie and Daphne he'll be more inclined to say yes. He would never want to let them down.

So she takes a deep breath and plunges forward. "Also, you should know that the girls are gonna play, have _their_ Opry debut. And I can tell you what, they would be over the _moon_ if you played with them. Kind of a full-circle sort of deal."

She can hear him breathing on the other end. "Can I think about it? And, you know, get back to you?"

"Yeah, 'course," she says, but she's sure he can hear the disappointment in her voice. "I appreciate it. And for what it's worth, I think it would be really amazing."

"Okay, then, uh…I'll let you know."

Well, if she's looking on the bright side, it wasn't a "no."

. …. …

She doesn't hold her breath. But Deacon comes through that night, both him and his guitar up on that stage with Maddie and Daphne as they perform at the Opry for the first time in their lives. The sight and sound are something to behold. And when he looks over at her mid-song, she swears that smile alone could set her heart on fire a hundred times over.

 _Someday._

It's been too long since that word sent shivers through her body. Too long since it'd become just another entry in her songwriting dictionary, an unadorned way to express vague, hopeful longing. It rhymed with "some say," "fun day," and "come stay." It was no longer a defined point in the future that she dreamed about in the safety of her bed. Once, a couple years ago after her marriage with Teddy had inevitably ended, she'd come close to hearing it in her head again. But that ended swiftly, with her in the ER and Deacon locked away in a jail cell. They'd both had a hand in the disaster of that night—the way it crashed and burned. She'd even returned his ring, finally, after so many years. At the time, it felt like the invisible cord that connected them had been severed for good. They were both moving on.

The night before she was supposed to marry Luke, the seven-carat diamond on her finger felt impossibly heavy. She'd held it up to the window, watching it sparkle and shine in the dim light. Deacon's ring—he'd pressed it into the palm of her hand after Luke's proposal and told her to keep it—was back where she'd kept it hidden for years, in the same box as a silver bracelet that promised _forever_. The next thing Rayna knew the sun was coming up and her pillow was wet. Different man, same old story. She loved Luke, or at the very least loved what he represented, but she knew she couldn't keep making the same mistakes.

Just like that, the wedding was off. Just like that, _someday_ bloomed inside her once more, like a stovetop flame. And maybe, Rayna thinks now, watching the audience erupt with applause after Maddie and Daphne finish their set, maybe _someday_ has finally become today.

Vince Gill comes out to introduce her after the girls' performance is over: "You know,"he starts off, _"_ ten years ago, I had the opportunity to invite Miss Rayna Jaymes into this beautiful Grand Ole Opry family. Since then… _"_ It's too bad Miss Rayna Jaymes can barely focus on what he's saying right now. Her palms are sweaty as she and the girls approach the side of the stage. She comes to a stop by Deacon's side, knows she startles him a little when she reaches over and wraps her hand around his. But at the same time, he doesn't seem surprised at all. They look each other, and he understands what she's trying to say, no words needed. Well, no words except—

"Come sing with me."

And he does just that. And it's sort of everything she remembers it to be. On stage alone for the first time since that fateful night at the Bluebird, their lives are completely intertwined—with music, with each other. She shivers again, even under all the bright lights. At the end, when he alone utters the words "Help me hold on…," she wonders if maybe they've had the right idea about it all along. It was never about letting go and moving on.

But everything that happens after he exits the stage is a blur: the dozens of messages she leaves on his phone when he doesn't answer, his confession to her at the cabin, her plea to Beverly in Natchez, the way his illness leaks out to the public until every phone in her orbit is ringing nonstop—a constant reminder that they spent too many years thinking they would have forever to fix this and now, already, they're out of time.

So they do the only thing they know how to do. They keep making music. For an hour or two, that feels like enough. Until Beverly, for all of her faults, shows up big. She doesn't miss the chance to be a pain in the ass about it of course, but Rayna can hardly complain about someone who's saving the life of the man she loves.

Time moves fast after that. The day of the surgery looms large.

Before they head over to the hospital, Rayna grabs the belt from her closet without a second thought. She wears it more often than not these days. Sometimes it's even the first thing she sees when she peers inside. And as she tightens the leather band around her hips, she feels a calm wash over her. Maybe it's foolish not to worry, but suddenly she knows with every fiber of her being that he'll be safe. That he'll live. That, after all these years, they'll finally get what they've always wanted. A family. A chance to grow old together. A beautiful wedding full of love.

Rayna hasn't been given reason to believe any of it. She just does.

( _He's as good as dead._

Deacon has never been more convinced of anything. This is one time even Rayna can't save him. She always said the bottle would kill him one day, but... Didn't neither of them think it would happen like this.

Ever since the night she confessed she still loved him—the second time around, that is—he's had dreams of being buried alive, of dirt being thrown on his grave, of the back of his buddy Vince's head as he got into his car, the last time Deacon ever saw him alive.

Only then is he left alone with a familiar memory from his childhood, of the one face that haunts him more than his own drunk-ass reflection in the bathroom mirror. The two faces even look alike. They've got that same chin, same eyebrows, same mouth. As Deacon watches, the mouth opens. It says, over and over like a broken record: _When you're a man, you're gonna be just like me. When you're a man, you're gonna be just like me. When you're a man, you're gonna be just like me..._

And after all that: nothing but the darkness, a steady persistent flatline.

But Rayna's always had a way of reassuring him when the demons overwhelm him, and he finally surrenders completely to her light. When he tells her about his nightmares, she responds by telling him about her dreams. And of course, they're such beautiful dreams. He expects nothing less from her. And he wants nothing more than for them to come true. For both of them.

They exchange unofficial vows on his hospital bed, and in that moment it's like his heart makes a silent promise to keep on beating. She holds his face in her hands and kisses him like she doesn't ever want to let go. His hands slip around her waist and feel the pebbled texture of the belt underneath, his thumbs finding the row of stars and the shallow grooves they make. They just sit there and look at each other for a while, until he can't face the reality of it anymore and dips his head.

He recognizes her belt instantly from the front this time, from those gold stars on either side of the rectangular buckle. Deacon can't help but smile when he sees it, knowing the words that hide on the other side.

"What?" The sound of her voice brings his eyes right back up to hers.

"Nothin', baby. Nothin'." _You're just so damn beautiful,_ he once replied to that same question, and it's still the truest answer he knows. But he doesn't say it this time; instead, tucks it away for later. And later, and later, and later. Because he knows now that this isn't the end.

He's not, he discovers, ready to be a ghost just yet.)

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks to all for reading/reviewing. :) There's a lot less angst from here on out, I promise.  
_


	4. 04

_A/N: First things first. I really am so sorry for the long wait. I just moved, and the past two months have been a total blur. I'd originally intended to finish posting the whole fic by mid-September before things got crazy, but clearly that was far too optimistic on my part. Many thanks to everyone who has given me a nudge since then. I really appreciate all your words. And don't worry, the wait for the final chapter will definitely be much, much shorter._

 _So this part takes place shortly after season 4, but in case anyone's worried about potential spoilers for s5, I haven't read any so it's totally safe. Also, the first two lines I ever wrote for this fic (and really, the main reason I decided to write it at all) are in this section. Maybe you can guess what they are._

* * *

 **04**

Deacon survives, of course, but eternal happiness? That sure doesn't come easy.

If they've learned anything over the years, it's that. Except for the music, nothing ever really came easy for them. They've both been guilty of making the same mistakes over and over again. Sometimes she's afraid they might never find a way to break the cycle.

But they keep on attending therapy. That helps, a little. Then, they start making music together again, like they'd been saying they would for too long. That helps, a lot. Some things you just can't say out loud until you put them in a song. Rayna's always found that to be true. So they make it a regular thing, scheduling time in music room at least two or three times a week, around their busy schedules.

It's on an evening when she's in their bedroom changing into something more comfortable that she's hit, suddenly, with a memory of the night she sat in this very room packing for an impromptu weekend in St. Lucia with Liam McGuinnis. That whole ordeal seems a lifetime ago now, but she smiles thinking about it: How completely unprepared she was, after a dozen years of marriage, to abscond off to some tropical island with a hot, uncomplicated, younger guy. She remembers running back and forth between her closet and mirror, frantically debating which bathing suit to bring—which cover-up, which pair of shoes—before giving up and tossing them all in her suitcase. That is, until she once again came across the belt in her closet, came across the message written on it, and something inside her finally clicked open. In the end, that was how that evening went: the words I LOVE YOU etched on a belt, the words "I love you" spoken on someone's doorstep, the words _I love you_ given and received endlessly before sunrise. I love you, I love you, I love you… And for one night, she allowed herself to forget about Maddie, about decade-long secrets bubbling to the surface, and then—

Well. It's all history now.

Rayna quickly loops the belt around her waist before checking in on the girls and heading downstairs. She finds Deacon already in the music room, staring at the adorned walls. He smiles when he sees her enter, and gestures to the platinum records, tour posters, and framed photographs decorating the sacred space. They've both had quite a life—together, apart, together, apart, until finally they can say that they'll be togetherness for good. She doesn't take a step back often enough to appreciate the journey.

Rayna joins him in front of twin photos of the whole family on stage together, both framed separately in patriotic red, white, and blue—the ones Maddie once made and gave to them as gifts. He picks up the one on the right, contemplating the four figures in the portrait wordlessly as she threads her arm under his. "What's on your mind, babe?"

He pulls her close, exhales deeply before answering. "You know, I keep tellin' myself she wasn't running away from _me_ , that it wasn't personal, but…"

"It _wasn't_ personal," she reminds him. "You have to believe that. She felt—incorrectly, I might add—that I was denying her somethin' she was entitled to, and Cash was willing to exploit any easy target—"

"That's just the thing. I never shoulda been such an easy target. I never shoulda put us in that position. You said it yourself once before."

There's a moment or two of silence. "That was a long time ago," Rayna says finally. "Deacon, you can't keep beating yourself up over this. We're going to get through it together, as a family. I know we will. At least she's back home with us now. Safe. And she has been trying her best to make amends any way she can—"

"I know, baby. I know." He carefully places the framed photo back on the shelf. "Anyway, being in this room helps. Surrounded by all this music. All these great memories. It's gotta be one of my favorite places in the world. Even if it ain't mine."

"What are you talking about? Of course it's yours. It's one of my favorite places, too. And I will tell you what, it wasn't half this amazing before I got to share it all with you."

His whole face moves when he laughs. It's one of the things she's always loved about him. He grabs his guitar off its resting place on the couch and immediately starts strumming. "You up for freestylin' some lyrics tonight?"

She only looks at him with raised eyebrows: Challenge accepted. "Show me what you got, darlin'. Hope you can keep up."

He chuckles. "Oh trust me, _you're_ gonna be the one worrying about keepin' up."

. …. …

Later that night, Deacon watches wordlessly from behind as she stands in front of the bathroom mirror, midway through her nightly routine.

"I love it when you wear that belt," he says finally.

"I know you do, babe. I love it, too." Her gaze searches out his in the mirror, and she's sure he recognizes thelook in her eyes all too well _._ "I love it even more when you take it off."

He's trying hard not to smile as he pulls her body to his, wraps his arms around her from behind, whispers in her ear, "That so?"

"Mmm, I said it didn't I?" She reaches up to run her right hand through his hair, keeping her eyes locked on his in the mirror.

"Well," Deacon brushes his lips against the skin just behind her earlobe, and she feels a rush of blood to that very spot, "I'd hate to leave you disappointed then." And his hands start working the buckle in front, moving as agonizingly slow as humanly possible.

Once upon a time, the two of them were alone in a room, surrounded by guitars and these words: _That slow enough for you?_ It feels foreign and familiar all at once.

"You don't disappoint me," she says softly, and she means it. He's still impulsive and passionate, even now, even as he's matured, faced his demons, unwavering in his commitment to sobriety. He can sometimes be frustrating, maybe. Exasperating, definitely. But disappointing? Never.

(Standing there with his arms around her, he knows there's no way in hell that's actually true. She's the most patient and understanding person he's ever known. But he'd be kidding himself if he didn't admit he'd disappointed her more times than he can count. Most recently, he remembers when she came to see him at the jailhouse after his run-in with Frankie at the bar. _Just once in your life, you couldn't have held back?_ He will carry that memory with him forever: the look on her face behind the glass, the echo of her voice. They're etched in his mind for all time.

But he can let that slide for now.

Once the buckle's unlatched, he starts to free the belt from her jeans one loop at a time, stroking the inner edge of the strap with his thumb as the heel of his hand brushes against the thin material of her shirt. "This kinda what you had in mind?" His keeps his voice low, lips still against her ear.

"Kinda." She swallows, his eyes drawn to the sudden movement of her throat, before they travel further south, disappearing beneath the V-neck of her sweater. "But you know, this would probably go a little faster if you just… you know… pulled the whole thing through at once."

"Wait, you can do that with these things?" he whispers in feigned surprise.

"I think that's something people do indeed do, yeah."

He pretends to contemplate this novel idea. "Mm, no, I don't think I'm gonna be doin' that. You see, I'm startin' to get the idea that this belt loves me. At least," he slides the tip of the belt through another loop, "that's what it's been tellin' me since the first time I ever laid eyes on it. Guess I just never fully understood what it was tryna say until now. So I'm gonna take my time here. Make sure nothin' else gets broken."

"It's survived a hell of a lot worse than your hands," Rayna chuckles, a bemused expression on her face. "I really don't think it's half as delicate as you seem to think it is, babe."

Deacon breathes deep, savoring the familiar scent of her hair. He's hit, suddenly, with a memory of that night he found her on his front porch with this very belt cinched around her hips, a confession on her lips. Of course, he hadn't known she was wearing it at the time. In the front hallway, his hands fumbled to unbuckle the belt in the darkness, at a much faster pace than he was doing now: her tongue in his mouth, her hair in his face. He didn't give the belt any further thought, barely noticed its presence, until the next morning when he watched her get redressed after breakfast. There it'd been, plain as day: I LOVE YOU. Maybe, subconsciously or not, she'd always been trying to tell him something after all.

"You still think everyone and every thing is as strong as you are, Ray," Deacon says to her now, stealing a glance at their reflections in the mirror as he frees the belt from yet another loop. "How many times I gotta tell you we ain't all that tough? Call me selfish, but I just wanna make damn sure this belt lasts a long, long time."

"Well… if you really think this is gonna make a difference," she finally says, rolling her eyes but surrendering to his whims.

"Oh, believe me, I do." Finally he releases the belt from its confines and brings it down in front of her so she can read those words for herself. _I love you_. "Well, there you go, baby! I took it off just like you asked. Better put this one away before gets misplaced." He straightens abruptly and starts walking away towards her closet with the belt in tow. "Oh man, it's been a day, hasn't it? I'm beat. Gonna call it a night."

"Seriously, Deacon?" She turns to follow him, and he wishes he could see the glorious outrage on her face right now.

"Ohhh wait." He turns on his heel as if he's just realized something. "Were you wantin' me to remove more than that?"

Of course, the expression on her face is completely worth it. "Oh, you still think you're so funny. But you are so _not_ funny." Yet she's laughing as she tackles him to the bed.

And so he does take it all off, every last stitch of clothing between them.

Eventually, anyway.)


End file.
